


Danganronpa: The Ultimate Imposter versus the World Destroyer

by TheRareHunterH



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:39:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27520126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRareHunterH/pseuds/TheRareHunterH
Summary: We all know what happened when Nagito Komaeda faced off against the World Destroyer, but what about the Ultimate Imposter?[in-progress]
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Danganronpa: The Ultimate Imposter versus the World Destroyer

**Author's Note:**

> CONTENT WARNINGS: Reference to suicide, self-harm, eating disorder, strong language, spoilers for SDR2/DR3 (anime)

Ryota’s room was dark. The light from his tablet screen didn’t travel far, but it was all he needed. He clicked its surface, opening the files for the scene he’d been animating. With everything in place, he pulled his chair up to the desk and assumed a proper posture for work. But something was off.

Swallowing a lump in his throat, he dragged his stylus across the screen, testing the canvas. Its surface felt slippery, like his hand was skating on ice. He could barely see the lines trailing behind his pen strokes. The various windows that split the screen—usually so helpful in his workflow—pulled his attention in all directions, making the screen dance around like TV static.

Ryota sighed and leaned back in his chair, studying the texture on the ceiling. His fatigue made it feel like all his experience as the “Ultimate Animator” was falling out of his head. Did the Imposter ever struggle with animation like this? Probably not. At this point, he’d been successfully masquerading as Ryota for weeks.

Ryota flipped his stylus around his index finger, then hovered his hand over the desk and let it drop to the table with an agitated clatter.

Knocking came from the door—three friendly taps. Someone must have the wrong dorm number. This was the Imposter’s room, which he had traded to Ryota when taking on his identity. Officially, this room was vacant.

Three persistent knocks came again. Whoever this was, they weren’t giving up. 

Ryota stepped over to the door without making a sound, then leaned toward the peephole. The door responded with a loud BANG that shook Ryota’s skull, making him jump. A wrenching sound came from behind the door, and it started to pull back.

With his heart thumping in his chest, Ryota scanned the room. That door was his only exit, so he’d have to find somewhere to hide instead. Ryota pulled the mess of blankets from his bed to check the space underneath, but it was too narrow. Hearing metal dropping from the door, he dashed towards the closet. He slipped between some clothes and closed the door behind him.

The wrenching sound stopped, punctuated by a booming thud that shook the ground. A woman’s voice came from within the room. “Whew, that was _way_ harder than it should’ve been! Hm, was this door double-padlocked? I don’t think we allow that.”

Ryota heard humming and the “fwoomp” of fabric fluttering around. The objects on his nightstand were knocked around, followed by the ones on his desk. Then, a sliver of light beamed into the closet and grew wider as the closet door opened on him.

The woman—Ryota’s homeroom teacher, Miss Yukizome—pulled a pile of hangers to the side. She smiled. “Ah, there you are!”

Ryota’s mouth fell open. He stayed silent, not wanting to incriminate himself or the Imposter.

She grabbed Ryota’s hand and pulled him out of the closet. “Ryota, we’ve been looking everywhere for you! It’s been a week, you know! Hey, have you lost weight? Are you sick?”

Ryota stumbled as he gained his footing. “Um… No, ma’am. I’m fine. Just busy.”

Yukizome put her hands on her hips. “’Busy’ isn’t an excuse to leave your class hanging! We’ve all been really worried about you.”

This probably meant the Imposter was missing, and for a full week. Ryota shook his head. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

Yukizome put a firm hand on Ryota’s shoulder and spun him toward the door. ‘Well, don’t just stand there! We’ve got a class to get to!” As Ryota was steered out of the room, his eyes flicked over to the bed. It was perfectly made.

Ryota watched his feet, trying not to trip while being pushed down the hall. “Miss Yukizome? I can walk just fine on my own.”

“I know that! But I can't have you running away on me!”

“Why would I-“

Ryota’s head swiveled as they passed by his old room—the one the Imposter had been using. “Wait, can we stop here?”

Ryota ducked and freed himself of Yukizome’s grip. He dashed over to the door. He could try knocking, but if the Imposter was really in there and was trying to go AWOL to the world, then he might attempt evasive maneuvers, just like Ryota had.

Without further hesitation, he thrust the door open. A phantom of the Imposter formed in Ryota’s vision with how badly Ryota wanted to see him in there. But Ryota couldn’t see much at all. His vision was obstructed by some thick, iron bars.

Impossible. Was he dreaming? His mouth flailed, trying to find a response that matched his disbelief. He turned to Yukizome. “Are you seeing this, or am I crazy?! These bars-”

Yukizome came up to Ryota and leaned over his shoulder. “Bars? What're you talking about? It's just a dusty, old dorm room.”

“But…” Ryota stopped, not knowing how to protest. He grasped one of the iron bars, shifting and peering into the room from every angle. There were no signs of life in there.

Yukizome put her hand back on Ryota’s shoulder. “What’re you doing, silly? We’re gonna be late.” She flanked Ryota and pushed him along, prying his grip from the iron bar.

___

Ryota opened the door and shuffled into the classroom with Yukizome on his heels. Her voice rang out from behind him, “Look who’s here! And in one piece!” 

Everyone broke away from their idle conversations and turned to face Ryota. His chest tightened from being in the presence of so many people, but his classmates shared none of his discomfort. They beamed at him as if they’d truly known him for weeks, even though Ryota had never met them before.

A long-haired girl waved at him. “Yo, it’s been ages! Like, an entire week! Where the heck you been?”

The buff guy sitting next to her crossed his arms and leaned forward, “You feelin’ okay, dude? You’ve slimmed down, and you’ve lost a lot of muscle mass.”

A different girl, one with red hair, whipped her head towards him. “Y’know, it’s rude to be so direct.”

Ryota waved dismissively. “I’m fine, just been distracted. Sorry I made you all worry.” Ryota hunched over and weaved between the desks to his seat, still feeling everyone’s eyes on him.

Yukizome strode to the front of the class. “Alright, let’s not waste any more time! Since you all bombed last week’s math test, we’re continuing the remedial lessons.”

She plopped a giant textbook on the lectern. Ryota was glad the Imposter was the one taking lessons and lugging books like that around , instead of him. Yukizome scrawled a bunch of numbers on the blackboard before turning to the class. “Alright, who’s gonna help me with the answer?”

Dead silence hung over the classroom. Only the clock could be heard, ticking away the seconds.

Yukizome sighed. “Fine, I’ll just call on someone. How about… Ibuki?”

An eccentric-looking girl with shockingly colorful hair raised her hand. “Present!” She went up and plucked a piece of chalk from Yukizome, then turned to her teacher and said, “Ibuki doesn’t know the answer, so she’s just gonna write whatever looks cool.”

Yukizome shook her head. “I’m sure ‘Ibuki’ will do just fine.”

Ryota yawned. He desperately wanted to eject from his seat and land back in his room to continue drawing. He rubbed his head to release his nervous energy, and his hand brushed against something near his ear. It fell and clattered on the desk—a tablet stylus. He picked it up and rotated it in his hand. It was the same stylus he always used. But he could’ve sworn he’d left it back in his room.

An inhuman screech came from the front of the classroom. Ibuki had etched a thick, white line straight down the middle of the chalkboard.

Yukizome gave an agitated chuckle. “My dear, you’re wasting time.”

Ibuki tapped the chalk against the blackboard. “Sorry, sorry! It’s just, Ibuki never gets to be up here! She doesn't really understand numbers, but this chalkboard can make some killer sounds!”

Ryota blinked. Next to the line of chalk they were squabbling over was a thick, dark line extending far past the blackboard. Its color was so deep that Ryota was pretty sure he'd missed an earthquake that had had cut a fault line straight down the middle of the classroom, threatening to split it in two. This was it. He was finally losing it after missing out on so much sleep.

He thought about raising his hand to say something, but was struck by revelation. He thumbed the tip of his stylus and decided to test his theory.

Looking around, his eyes landed on the notebook belonging to the responsible-looking girl who’d admonished the buff guy earlier. She had circled her answer for this question—296.

As if aiming a gun, Ryota closed one eye and used his stylus to trace the numbers “296” on the board, then circled them. Dark lines emerged as he "drew" them. Seconds later, they transformed into white, chalky writing. Ibuki almost scrawled right into them, but she stopped just short of Ryota's circle.

As the tapping of chalk stopped, Yukizome looked up at the board. “Huh… that’s right. Looks like you missed a few steps, but at least the answer’s correct.”

Ibuki slapped the chalk onto the base of the blackboard. “Kyahaha! Ibuki doesn’t know how it happened, but she’ll take it!” She puffed out her chest and strutted back to her desk.

Yukizome ran a finger across the book on the lectern, then resumed her position at the blackboard. “Okay, but before you start celebrating, we should figure out how you got the answer.” She erased Ibuki’s—and Ryota’s—handiwork, then rewrote the problem.

___

The school bell rang, signaling the end of homeroom. Everyone else was busy packing their bags, while Ryota simply picked up his stylus and left. 

Ryota poked his head into the hallway, confirming that it was still devoid of other students. He exited and closed the door halfway, wanting that extra second to conceal his stylus before any of his classmates caught him drawing in midair.

He got his stylus into position. Holding his breath, he aimed his stylus at the wall next to the classroom door. He rendered the legs of a chair, and then the chair itself. He added a desk. Wherever his stylus went, dark pen strokes flourished into existence. Moments later, a full desk sat in front of him. 

Ryota put out a finger and poked it, feeling its solid wood. Then, he anchored both palms on the desk's surface and pressed down with all his might. It didn’t buckle. This desk was just as real and sturdy as any other desk he’d ever seen. Ryota pulled out the chair and slumped into it, staring at the stylus in his hands.

The classroom door thrust open, and Ibuki came trotting out. “Oh, Ryota! Did ya see Ibuki’s finest hour? It’s the first math problem Ibuki’s ever gotten right, and she did it in front of the whole class!”

Ryota smiled. “How’d you know the answer?”

“It’s a secret, even to Ibuki! So what’re you doing out here? Staying after to see Miss Yukizome?”

“No. Although, I should probably talk to her after missing a whole week.” Ryota sighed, wondering if his magic stylus could do all his make-up homework for him. “Hey, could I ask you a question?”

“Fire away, sarge!”

“Did anything seem strange before I left? Did I seem to be acting weird, or did anyone do anything weird to me?”

“Hmmm, Ibuki wouldn’t know because she's never talked to Ryota before. But we could get to know each other if you started speaking up! Ooo, there’s an idea! Let’s make up for lost time by TALKING REALLY LOUD.”

“Please, we’re indoors.”

“The echoes amplify our power!”

Ryota tapped his fingers against the desk. “Do you really not remember anything? Did I talk to anyone else before-“

“Silly, you’d be the one who knows that, not Ibuki. Besides, if I were you, _I wouldn’t bother looking anymore_.”

Ryota's eyes darted to Ibuki's face, looking for something to explain the serious tone that had just come from her. But her open-mouthed smile betrayed nothing of the sort.

Ibuki slammed the desk with both hands, making Ryota jump. “Kyahaha! Life’s just full of mysteries, isn’t it?! Full of exciting mysteries that make Ibuki wanna go get full from lunch! You coming with?”

“W-where to?”

“The cafeteria, duh! Even though you lost weight, you _do_ remember how to eat, right?”


End file.
